


Shadows Grow Long, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-19
Updated: 2008-01-19
Packaged: 2019-05-30 17:25:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 11,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15101504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: I was searching for Stephanie Abbott stories, but apparently there weren't any.  Now there is.  This answers the question:  Why didn't they know that anyone else had been shot until 3:28 am?





	1. The Shadows Grow Long 1/18

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: Thanks to Cathy, who encouraged & beta'd. I have used text directly from the show in a coupla places... the text is indented.

Disclaimer: I don’t own them: never have, never will...sniff.  


* * *

Inside the Dixie Pig BBQ. Tuesday, 3:28 AM

On the TV over the counter, a news broadcast can be heard:

> “...that there will be a press conference at the White House at 7:30 Eastern, that's about four hours from now. Deputy Chief of Staff Joshua Lyman is currently undergoing extensive surgery to repair a collapsed lung, and remove a bullet that remains lodged in his thoracic region. Now, for an update on his condition, let's go live to ...”

Sitting at the counter, a nasty smile smeared across Carl’s face when he heard that one of those White House Jews would probably be dead soon. No, things didn’t go as planned, but he certainly couldn’t complain.

He turned to watch as a blonde woman walked in. He‘d always been one to appreciate a pretty blonde. She looked him over, let him know pretty quickly that she didn’t like what she saw, and walked right past him. 

"Bitch," he mumbled. 

Taking the cigarette out of his mouth, he crushed it in what was left of his plate of ribs and eggs, and got up to leave. 

The blonde walked to a back booth, sat down and opened her menu. Behind her menu, Agent Conners whispered quietly into the microphone hidden under her collar. “Identification confirmed. Just as described: the swastika is above his left thumb… it’s him. And he’s leaving NOW.” 

As the door swung shut behind him the TV news anchor continued…

> “Wait, we're not going to Lynn just yet. Now, I'm being told that authorities are reporting another gunshot victim, a woman who...”

Agent Conners let out the breath she was holding. The news report had to be a leak, but the timing had been too damn close.

Out in the parking lot, a brilliant light beamed down over Carl’s shiny head accompanied by the deafening sound of a helicopter. He didn't look up from lighting his cigarette, though, not until he realized that the light was on him and someone started yelling:   
“Let me see those hands! Hold it right there! Get down. Get down on the ground!”

Inside the diner, the blonde at the booth in the back jumped up and yelled to get the attention of all the customers, “Police! This is an emergency! Everybody find cover! Get down! Police! Everybody get down! Find cover!” Everyone dropped to the floor or under their table. 

Carl was surrounded on all sides by the local and state police, the FBI, then the Secret Service. He lowered himself to the ground, and they descended on him. At that moment, all his pent up anger was focused on one burning thought: how the hell had they found him? What had gone wrong?

At 3:33am, more than 6 hours after he gave the signal for two of his “brothers” to shoot, Carl Leroy was arrested and taken into custody by the Secret Service for the attempted assassination of the President of the United States and his Deputy Chief of Staff, along with the kidnapping and attempted murder of the author of Carl’s downfall…   
Stephanie Abbott, from Silver Spring, Maryland. That’s A-B-B-O-T-T.


	2. The Shadows Grow Long 2/18

Tuesday, 4:05am, Secret Service Headquarters, Wash, D.C. 

“You wanna know what went wrong? YOU WANNA KNOW WHO TURNED YOU IN?” Ron was inches from Carl Leroy’s face as he yelled. 

“Stephanie Abbott, that’s who! Man, you really blew that one. Never guessed that she’d live, did ya? That she’d contact police? That she'd be able to describe you PERFECTLY! To even TELL US WHERE TO FIND YOU?!”

As Ron told him who had turned him in, Carl went from an outraged pink to an ill-looking pale, recognizing his stupid mistake. He hadn’t killed the bitch. 

Ron stepped back, letting that information sink in. Right now Ron’s goal was to get _everything_ he could from Carl - absolutely everything - and he had to get it asap. He had to hammer down every detail, so he could go back to the President and tell him that the immediate danger was over, that the public could sleep safely. 

To do that he had to get Carl to talk. From years of training Ron knew that to motivate a person to talk you had to make them believe that you knew more that you actually knew. You had to get them to believe that talking wasn’t going to help anyone except themselves. 

“Know this… after everything you put that woman through, Stephanie is _more_ than willing to testify against you for every little thing you bragged to her about!”

And with that, Carl Leroy knew he was at the end of his “mission”, and spilled his guts. 

An hour later Ron walked out of the interrogation room with the information he needed. Damn, that “Good Cop/ Bad Cop” thing was wearing. It was ironic... he had spent years in the Secret Service perfecting “Neutral Cop”, but that never seemed to fit into this part of the game. 

And – no matter what he told anyone else - his hand hurt like a sum-bitch.


	3. The Shadows Grow Long 3/18

Tuesday, 5:30am, Private Waiting Room, GW Hospital, Wash, D.C. 

Abbey’s world was in the process of righting itself after the major tilt it had taken last night. It was good to know her husband was doing better. Yes, he was cranky… but, well, Jed always got cranky when he was sick, she thought. But when he's right, he's right. She kept hearing him say, “We don’t know what the injury count is yet.” 

And the hits just kept on coming. 

Poor Stephanie… Abbey knew that the girl would be in for a long night. Her surgery hadn’t even started until after 3 am, when the ambulance brought her in. Stephanie’s mother had arrived a short time after that.

Stephanie’s arrival at the hospital had surprised everyone. It had been quiet for hours, as everyone waited to find out about Jed and Josh. Up until a few hours ago, no one had known that anyone one else had even been injured. 

When Stephanie had arrived there had been so much protection around her that Abbey had compared it to Jed's Secret Service contingent. Everyone in the waiting room was stunned when they learned who Stephanie was, and why she was here.

About a half hour later Stephanie’s mother had blown in like the wind, not knowing what had happened, not knowing if her daughter was even alive at that point. 

“They sent me in here… where’s the doctor? Who do I talk to about Stephie?” She asked the room at large. 

Abbey had stepped up and explained that the doctor would be right in. Although Abbey knew very little about the girl’s condition, she knew one thing this mother needed to know, “Stephanie’s alive,” then Abbey continued, “but she’s currently in surgery. The doctor will be right in to tell you more.” Although they had never met, Sharon recognized Abbey. She was a mother, a doctor, and last night someone she loved had been shot, too. 

Abbey stood beside her and held her hand as the doctor came into the waiting room to share the news of Stephanie's current status with her mother. He sounded optimistic - guardedly optimistic because they had just gone into surgery - but optimistic nonetheless. With that news Sharon had gone off to try and call her husband again. 

While Abbey sat in the waiting room, Gina Toscano, the Secret Service Agent assigned to Zoey, continued pacing the area… she had been pacing all night, and she passed by Abbey on what the First Lady thought must be the agent’s 100th “lap”. Ever since they had heard about Stephanie, Gina had been blaming herself for Stephanie’s condition 

“Come sit down, Gina,” Abbey prompted as the agent walked past again.

The young agent stopped short, looking confused, and it took her a moment to realize that Abbey had said something to her. “Thank you, ma’am; I’m fine.” Gina looked so lost in thought that Abbey wasn’t even sure if Gina had realized that all that had been offered was a seat. 

Gina had been arguing with Ron a while ago, and Abbey couldn't help but overhear. "If I could have just ID’d the signal man sooner!" Gina said. In some way that Abbey couldn't fathom, Gina believed that Stephanie was in the hospital because Gina couldn't ID the signal man. "She could have been kept out of this whole mess!" Gina yelled at Ron.

Ron hadn't been able to get Gina to listen to him. He had told Gina over and over how useless that train of thought was; that the actions she had taken & the information that Gina had shared had saved lives. But Gina couldn’t hear this right now; her guilt was blocking her ears. So, as much as he hated it, all he could do was just let her vent. Abbey knew that later on, when things weren't so crazy, Ron would do everything he could to _make_ her understand. Ron wasn't going to let Gina continue to beat herself up over something over which she had no control… that path lead to agents who got themselves killed.

~~~

Stephanie was currently undergoing surgery. Her right thighbone had been hit as the bullet passed through her leg… well, almost passed through her leg: the bullet had broken into pieces as it hit the bone. They were currently removing the bullet pieces and the fragments of bone. Abbey was the only one in the room who knew how incredibly lucky Steph had been. Neither the bullet nor any of the smaller pieces of bone or bullet had severed her femoral artery. Yes, Stephanie had lost a lot of blood; but had she experienced a severed artery in the situation last night, Abbey knew that she would have just bled out, with no chance for any help. 

Yet Abby was pretty sure that Stephanie wasn't feeling so lucky.

The details about Stephanie Abbott’s evening kept surfacing, and each was worse than the last. All they had learned so far was this: Stephanie Abbott had driven over from Silver Spring to hear the President speak at the Town Hall meeting last night. And somehow, this young woman had randomly received the opportunity to give Carl Leroy a ride back to the middle of “not-much obviously”. 

On the way, he had shot her and left her for dead.


	4. The Shadows Grow Long 4/18

Monday – the night before – 9:28p.m., The Newseum Plaza, Rosslyn, VA

“That was … That was... I’ve never heard anything like... Wow”. Those were the only thoughts rolling through Stephanie’s head. 

She had just left the President’s Town Hall meeting at the Newseum. Being a journalism student gave her an appreciation for various writing styles. But what had impressed her so much was that throughout the evening the President's words just seemed so “off the cuff”… and subsequently more personal and sincere. It made her feel like he was talking directly to her. 

Hmmmm.... maybe she would have to reconsider that class on extemporaneous speaking.

Tonight was amazing, but really, the whole day had been great. Stephanie had decided to make a "day of it", and had wandered the grounds at the Newseum before the event. 

The Newseum was impressive. Freedom Park - the area surrounding the Newseum - had some significant reminders of the ongoing battle for personal freedoms that Steph loved to pore over.

There was a large section of the Berlin wall. And a replica ballot box from South Africa. Finally, there was the "Journalists Memorial". Studying journalism at GW she had been to the monument before, but today had been gorgeous. The light had glistened off the glass monument, almost bringing life to the names of the fallen reporters whose names were engraved on the spiral plates. 

Here at the end of the day, Steph was exhausted and looking forward to getting home. The problem was, she knew the traffic getting out of the Newseum was going to be crazy and not only because there were so many people here, but because some of the roads were currently blocked off for the security surrounding the presidential motorcade. As much as she had enjoyed seeing the President she certainly didn't want to compete with his traffic - she knew who would win. 

So while the crowds gathered on the Plaza to shake the hand of the president before he left, Steph headed to the parking ramp to look for her car. She found it, got in, and while buckling up she smiled once more over how great today had been. 

She had just driven to the ramp’s exit and was waiting to turn onto the street when suddenly her passenger door was pulled open. Then someone jumped in. 

All Steph saw was the gun. She didn’t know anything about guns, and generally just hated them. Now there was one pointed right at her. 

“GO! GO! GO!” he yelled, and swung the gun around in some general pointing direction. Steph was on automatic pilot. She just followed the direction the gun was pointing, hoping she understood him correctly. 

Her old grey Honda scraped bottom as she pulled out of the ramp, making a terrible noise. 

He kept yelling - swinging the gun the whole time - so Steph just kept following his directions, whatever he said. About 10 minutes later he finally took a break in yelling at her. That was her first chance to just breathe, think, and figure out what was happening.

Who was this guy? What was going on? Where was he taking her? 

Think, think, think: she had read in one of those "survival guides" something about what a person was supposed to do in a hostage situation in their car... With a cringe, she finally remembered: never let the person take you to a second location. 

Well, she had blown that play. All she knew was that they were currently heading west, but that they had yet to cross the beltway. 

As she drove, she could hear police sirens from all sides, seemingly coming from everywhere. What had happened? Something big? Did they know about her situation? Were all the sirens about her? With that last question, she realized that this much noise probably wasn't just for her... really, the sirens were _everywhere_.

Finally, and with a terrifying flash: were the sirens and this man somehow connected? What in the hell was going on? 

He moved fast, startling her, as he turned on her car radio. He started fiddling with the knobs... wait... what? He's looking for the news? 

When the station cleared, Steph couldn’t believe what she heard… somehow this terrible night had managed to get worse. 

The President had been shot. Oh, God, how could that have happened? She had just seen him! And, oh, jeez... 

The man in her passenger seat was letting loose a string of filthy obscenities at the radio, and bashing his fist against the dashboard when the penny finally dropped. 

Steph realized that he was _somehow_ connected with the President being shot. And not only was he crazy enough to shoot the President, but he was in her car, angry as hell, and pointing a gun at her. 

It was too much... she had to know, just had to hear it straight from him, so she started yelling, too, “You crazy asshole! What the hell did you do?! Did you just shoot the President?!” 

And the man just started laughing.


	5. The Shadows Grow Long 5/18

Monday, 9:57 p.m., Stephanie's car, just inside the Beltway, Virginia

“Did you? Did you shoot the President?” Steph yelled again over the laughter.

As abruptly as he had started, he stopped laughing and yelled back. “Shut up! Shut up! No, we didn’t shoot the President! We shot that black bastard screwing his daughter!” He wasn’t laughing any longer… now he was just angry again. 

“They’re saying you shot the President!”

“Well, they’re wrong! And shut up!” And he hit her - hard - right across the face with the hand holding the gun. He hit her so hard she saw stars, and it hurt so bad that she automatically just let go of the steering wheel to hold her face. Without a driver the car started to swerve across traffic.

From the passenger seat he grabbed the steering wheel, turned it until the car was back in the lane, and yelled, "Drive! Drive, or I'm gonna kill you now!"

Well, that got her attention back. She grabbed the steering wheel again and held on. Steph had to shake her head a time or two to clear it. She tasted blood and quietly licked her tongue across her sore mouth; apparently he had busted her lip, too.

They drove in silence for what seemed like forever, crossing the beltway. She didn't know what to do, or what to say now… the guy was obviously crazy. How was she supposed to handle a crazy guy with a gun? She tried to sneak a look or two at the gun, but didn't know a thing about them... no help there.

She had a cell phone with her but it was in her coat in the backseat. Not an option. 

Keep him talking. What to say…?

“Ummm. My name's Stephanie... what's yours?" she asked. He turned his head towards her, with a look on his face like _she_ was the one who was insane.

_Oookay_ , she thought. Bad start.

Well, if she was gonna die, she'd be damned if she didn't get her last real interview. Last, first... semantics. And although they had just discussed "on/off the record" in class, she didn't even feel the need to tell him that he was being interviewed by a journalist "on the record"... so there.

"So... why'd you shoot the Pres... whoever you shot?"

“Cause he’s a black bastard and he’s screwing the President’s daughter." His voice had gotten quieter, and he said almost in a growl. "And I have to save the future for *white* people. Didn’t you hear me before?” He said as he got louder and louder, yelling in her face.

Steph flinched at the volume and his nearness, but replied quietly hoping he'd lower his volume and back off, "Okay. Got that in one. Loud and clear."

“Don’t you get it?" he backed away but continued to yell. "YOU should get it, you of all people!” 

And Steph was totally stumped. "I should get it? What should I get? And why should I get it?” She continued to speak quietly.

“That we had to show them… had to show them what happens to a MRC!”

_An MRC? What’s a MRC?_ , Stephanie thought. 

“We had to show them what happens to a mixed race couple! _We must secure the existence of white people and the future for white children._ You should understand! You’re it! You’re the future, the mother of the white children!” 

Damn. In that moment the situation became both more clear and more dangerous. Now she knew what “sort” of crazy she was dealing with. But it left Stephanie that much more pissed off. And she knew she had to be a part of stopping this hate-filled man on his killing path.


	6. The Shadows Grow Long 6/18

Tuesday, 8:56am, Private Waiting Room, GW Hospital, Wash, D.C. 

Donna had spent the last 7 hours in the observation room at the hospital. It felt like she had one nerve left, and everybody was trodding on it. In fact, if one more person told her she should go lie down, why, she'd... she'd... 

She considered the absurdity of the situation with a watery chuckle. She was so tired she didn't even know what she'd say to the next "unlucky" person to suggest she go lie down. Maybe she'd just cry all over them. That'd certainly teach 'em to harass a woman with only one nerve left.

All she knew and could focus on was that Josh had finally come off of bypass. That strong, amazing heart had started pumping again... (please, God, keep that strong, amazing heart pumping).

A little over a half hour ago Dr. Bartlet had led Donna out of the observation room and back to the waiting room, telling her that the doctors were about ready to "finish up the surgery" and that Donna should wait outside for "a bit" until she could see Josh in recovery ... and Donna had just followed her. That was right before they started the procedure to remove the bypass. Had Donna known what was going to happen next Abbey never could have gotten her to leave. _Shouldn't a doctor - and a First Lady - be more trustworthy?_ Donna thought, not realizing that she had just been "managed".

But when Abbey told her that the removal of the bypass had been successful, Donna lost it. She’d had to run off to the bathroom where she cried a pent-up 14 hours worth of tears, sobbing from every part of her body in a very unlady-like fashion. After crawling out of the ladies room when her crying jag had tapered off, she was finally able to blow her nose and breathe again.

Now she just waited for the doctor to give her the word that she could go to him… to see him, touch him, feel the warmth of his skin. Since the moment when Toby told her that Josh had been shot, she was finally becoming aware of what was going on around her.

People from the hospital and the White House had been coming in and out of the waiting room all night: doctors, nurses, Secret Service, White House staffers. She could figure out who was on which team… mostly by their appearance, but also their actions.

Yet there was one woman in the room that Donna didn't recognize as being on either team... she was sitting alone, all by herself, quietly sobbing. The White House staff in the room kept looking at her as if they didn't know what to do with her. The hospital staff looked at her with understanding in their eyes but knew they had to care for their patients, so they walked past on their way to their critical duties. Dr. Bartlet - on both the medical and the White House team - had spent some time talking to the woman earlier, comforting her and discussing some medical concerns. Up until this moment Donna's whole focus had been on Josh, but now – as Donna was coming out of her fog - she had to know...

She got up and walked over, "Dr. Bartlet? Dr. Bartlet, who's that woman over there that you were talking to?" Donna quietly asked.

The First Lady was surprised, "Donna, that's Mrs. Abbott, Stephanie's mother."

"Stephanie? Who's Stephanie?"

That was when Abbey realized that Donna hadn't been aware of anything going on around her all night, not unless it directly affected Josh. Donna hadn't even realized that anyone else had been injured, well, except for the President.

Abbey took her hand, getting her to sit down, "Donna, honey, Stephanie Abbott was the third person shot last night, besides the President and Josh. She's just come out of surgery for a gunshot wound to the thigh."

Donna's tissue-filled hand went to her mouth to cover the gasp, and she almost started crying again. "I didn’t realize… Is Stephanie... is she going to be okay?"

Still holding Donna's hand, Abbey smiled sharing the good news, "Yes, her doctor came out of the operating room a little after you came out of the observation room. She told us that Stephanie's surgery went well, and that she's going to be okay. I think Mrs. Abbott is just taking a moment to pull herself together." 

Donna looked over at the woman who was still taking deep breaths, trying to get her crying under control. It was a familiar tactic; Donna had tried the same thing earlier.

She got up, walked over to the woman, and held out a box of kleenex. The woman seemed startled to see the box move into her line of vision, but her eyes followed the hand holding the box up to Donna's face. As they looked at each other - two women with red, puffy eyes, tears in their lashes and streaked across their cheeks, their noses running - they smiled softly at each other. And wiped their noses in unison. When they realized what they had just done, these two tired women burst out laughing and crying together, hugging each other as if they had both just returned victorious from the same battlefield.


	7. The Shadows Grow Long   7/18

Monday, 10:26pm, Steph's car, westbound on I-66, Virginia

Throughout high school Stephanie had dreamed of becoming the “next Carl Bernstein”. Not only had Carl (in her head she always called him by his first name) cracked open the Watergate Coverup with Bob Woodward, but he was also a Blair High School alum, the same school Steph had graduated from a couple years ago. Pictures of him hung around the campus, prodding the journalism students on to do better, be better. The school paper she had written for, "Silver Chips," had a history of journalistic excellence. She didn't just want to be a good journalist... she wanted to be the best.

She knew that being an investigative journalist meant that she would end up wading in some pretty dirty situations, but until this moment she had never been this close to someone so evil. Now she could say she had.

So here she was, and she was stuck on the same initial interview question... 

"So, what's your name?" Steph tried again.

"What do you care?" he sneered.

"Usually when I'm being held hostage, I like to know who’s holding the gun," Steph answered.

The rough chuckle startled Stephanie, but apparently he thought her retort was funny enough that he was willing to answer this time. "Leroy, Carl Leroy".

"Leroy?" Steph couldn't be sure if she had heard him right.

"You making fun?" he said, with more than a bit of anger, his voice rose and he leaned closer. When she quickly shook her head he said, "It's Carl".

And Steph was momentarily struck... for the last few years that name, Carl, had been Steph's mantra for perseverance and determination throughout her journalistic studies. She had read "All the Presidents Men" a dozen times. Winning a Pulitzer for Public Service had become her life's goal. It was a sick twist of fate, she thought, that this dark, vile man was also a Carl. But she wasn't going to allow this jerk ruin her mantra; it had gotten her through a lot in the past.

"Carl", she said, "Carl", repeating her mantra. And it felt good, helped her focus. "Carl".

"What?" he asked, getting hot again, thinking she was talking to him.

"Nothing," she said. And she knew that she could get through this night.


	8. The Shadows Grow Long   8/18

Tuesday, 9:02am, Private Waiting Room, GW Hospital, Wash, D.C. 

After holding each other up for a few moments, Donna and Mrs. Abbott stepped back and just looked at each other, seeing the damaging results of this night reflected in each other's eyes.

The two of them sat down, holding hands, holding on.

Mrs. Abbott was the first to speak. "I’ve heard the doctors and your friends talking about Josh’s injuries all night, but I don’t know anything about him. Tell me about your Josh," she said.

Donna blushed at the way Mrs. Abbot described Josh as "hers". "Oh, he's not mine Mrs. Abbott," Donna said.

"Please, call me Sharon. He's not yours? Really? Then does he at least know that you’re 'his'?" she asked. When Donna blushed again but darted glances around the waiting room to see if anyone had heard, Sharon realized that this was something strictly between Donna and Josh. She lowered her voice, "Ok, I got it. and I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I know who the President is - I mean I voted for him – but I don't know Josh. Can you tell me about him?"

With that request Donna attempted to sum up "Josh" for Sharon... a hard task to be sure. She ended up using words like, "brilliant", "a mess", "dedicated", "arrogant", and "passionate". Donna leaned in close - so no one but the two of them could hear - to tell her about "the dimples", and Mrs. Abbott really laughed for the first time in hours.

Then Donna asked, “And your Stephanie… what’s she like?

Sharon smiled wide, as she literally puffed up in pride. "I'm probably biased, but I tell you my Stephanie is brilliant, too. She's currently studying at GW University to become a journalist." 

“A journalist,” Donna said. “I have a friend that she might like to meet when she’s feeling better. Danny Concannon. He works for the Washington Post.”

Sharon's recognized the name, but her first response was to ask, "Is he a good man? I mean, besides the Pulitzer he won. Her father and I have tried to raise Stephanie to be both caring and grounded, and we hope that as she moves forward in her career that she won't lose track of those qualities. But it would be great if she could meet a positive role model."

Nodding her head, Donna praised, "Oh, yes, Danny… he's a good man. Absolutely one of the best." 

Sharon knew that Stephanie was an admirer of Mr. Carl Bernstein's journalistic tenacity. She also knew that it meant something to Steph that the reporter had gone to Blair High, and she thought it was important to have role models. But if Steph could actually meet and talk to an investigative reporter that had won a Pulitzer Prize? One that she and Grant would like? That would be even better. "I know Steph has followed Mr. Concannon's investigative journalism... I think she'd be thrilled to meet him."

Donna had to ask, "and Stephanie's father? He’ll be here soon?" The moment Donna asked the question she wished she could take it back, because Sharon almost started crying again.

"He was in Denver on business. I had to call him to tell him what had happened.” She stopped to breathe deep again. “He's on his way here now, and oh, God, I wish he were already here."

Sharon thought back to last evening. Her husband always worried about "his girls" when he was gone, so when everything was going crazy on the news about the President being shot Grant had called her, just to check in. Sharon had told him that Steph had been somewhere near the event, but that she would be home soon, and that she would call him back as soon as she arrived. How could she have known?

She did call him later, but not to tell him that Steph was home safe and sound. She could imagine him waking up confused with the phone ringing, blinking his pretty brown eyes awake enough to find his cell.

She wished she didn’t have to tell him over the phone, "Grant? Something bad’s happened, Grant. Stephie was at the shooting last night and she's been hurt. They've taken her to GW and she's in surgery. Grant, our baby's been shot." And she had burst into tears.

"I'll be there right away. I'll get there as fast as I can." She could hear the anguish in his voice, as the sleep fell away. He was grabbing his clothes to get dressed while he was telling Sharon, “Everything will be okay”, and “I’ll be there soon.” Grant felt terrible that he couldn't take Sharon in his arms and comfort her right at that this moment. He desperately wanted to make things "all better" for Stephie, just like he had done when she was a child and had skinned her knee. He felt so helpless… but until he got to GW he couldn’t do a damn thing. 

"Sharon, I'll be there as soon as possible. And when Stephie wakes up, tell her that I send my love." His mind was churning with ideas as to how to get back home… fast.

Sharon’s crying slowed… she knew him well enough to know what was going through his head. "Grant, baby, be safe. Get here quick, but get here safe. I couldn't handle it if you got hurt, too. I'll be fine until you get here. Then we'll both be here for Stephie when she wakes up."

She felt so bad for him, knowing that the time spent getting back home would be hard for him, and right now she didn't know how long that would be. All she knew was that each moment waiting for him seemed like forever.


	9. The Shadows Grow Long   9/18

Monday, 10:52pm, Steph's car, westbound on I-66, Virginia

"So, _Carl_... the radio says that you guys shot the President, but you say you didn't. What else have they gotten wrong on the news?"

Carl wanted an opportunity to tell his story… he was going to have to kill her anyway, so why not? He had put a lot into this mission, and he hadn't been able to discuss it with anyone but Russ and Brian, and - although he wasn't positive - he was pretty sure they were toast.

"They probably have it _all_ wrong, and why we did it, too. The media is controlled by propaganda-spewing Jews, you know," he snarled. "I met Russ and Brian at a rally a couple of years ago in Blacksburg. The three of us had been talking about making a statement like this for a while, but when we saw that black bastard move in on the President's daughter it was outrageous, just over the top. We *won't* just sit by and watch the future of white people be destroyed; we needed to take action. Mixed race couples are a threat to the future of white people. So we needed to make an example of him... to show people what happens to MRCs.” He continued, “One drop of black blood, and you're black. If we're not careful, they'll take over, don't you get it? We had to show up, to make an impact."

Steph's knuckles were white she was gripping the steering wheel so hard, out of anger, out of fear. "So, _Carl_ , what are Russ and Brian doing now?" Steph asked, but she was afraid of the answer.

The soft chuckle was merciless. "Bleeding probably, or more likely dead. But no matter what the news says, I know that black bastard is dead for sure and the lesson has been taught, so their sacrifice was acceptable. Damn, I wanted to have my hands on one of those guns when the shots were fired, but someone needed to lead and give the signal to act. That was my job," he sounded disappointed. Carl turned to look out the car window, "Man, I'm getting hungry. There's a barbecue place near here somewhere. Grab the next exit."

The non-sequiter startled Stephanie, but at the next exit she pulled off the interstate.

Carl kept giving her directions, taking her through the gates of a park, then even farther off the main road. He was swinging the gun around the front seat, pointing her turns with the barrel.

This wasn’t a barbecue joint. Steph realized that wherever they stopped, they had arrived at the "second location," that place the survival book had warned about. She didn't know exactly what was going to happen next, but he was dead wrong if he thought that she'd just follow where he told her to go, a lamb to the slaughter. She needed to act quickly, before they got out of the car. 

This section of the park had closed at dusk - 3 or 4 hours ago – so no one was around. The few lights along the wooded road cast a very close glow. No one was going to be able to help her; this was it - her last chance to act. Before she realized she had even made a decision, she made her move. Taking a deep breath, she filled her lungs, and…

"Carl! Carl! Carl!" she yelled her mantra as loud as she could - three times fast for impact, for courage, and for luck – surprising the crazy prick in her passenger seat, just as she had hoped.

He turned to look at her, trying to figure out what was going on, when she hit the gas.

And in a quiet dark wood, in the middle of the night, her lovely little Honda leapt off the road at 65 mph...


	10. The Shadows Grow Long   10/18

Monday, 11:14pm, Steph's car, mid-air, VA

There was a steep ditch on either side of the road. Her little car hit a rock as they left the pavement, and there was a moment when she realized they were in flight. The freedom she felt from taking charge of this god-awful night was amazing.

Carl was yelling, "What the...?!" 

…Steph held tight to the steering wheel, as if she could continue to steer the car towards the tree in mid-air.

The sound of the impact was terrific - metal rending, glass shattering, parts of the tree breaking, Carl screaming - then a huge crash as the car dropped to the ground.

And all was silent.


	11. The Shadows Grow Long   11/18

Monday, 11:35pm, Steph's car, seemingly nowhere, VA

The quiet night was broken with a soft moan. 

As Stephanie floated to consciousness, every breath she took delivered the most intense pain across her chest. Her airbag had gone off at impact, but her seatbelt had pulled her up tight, too, and that was where the pain was coming from. She knew the belt had saved her life, but dang, it hurt. A lot. She couldn't believe what had happened, what she had done. Even more, she couldn't believe she had survived.

But then she remembered why, and in a panic she looked around the remains of what was left of her car. No one. No one was in the car with her... what? The passenger door was open, well, sort of... it was dangling from the body of the car, totally out of kilter. Where the hell was he? She couldn't see him anywhere.

As she tried to move to get out, she realized that the frame of the car was bent so badly that her door wouldn't open. Through her aches and pains, she got herself moving through the front seat, to drag herself out the passenger door. Once out in the night she bent over leaning on the car, and took a moment as a wave of nausea moved through her and onto the leafy ground.

After losing the remains of the day, she stood up and looked around. Man, it was dark. _Really_ dark. Like, deep in the woods dark. She crawled back into the car to grab her jacket, and pulled out her cell to call for help, but wherever she was, there wasn't any reception.

She could barely see with the meager help of a half moon, which was fast on its way to setting beyond the trees. All she knew was that the road was someplace above her. It was going to be a good crawl to get up there, but she knew that she had to either find Carl's body so she knew she was safe, or keep moving in case he, too, had survived. Either choice meant getting up to the road.

Going into the woods was simply not an option. She was not an outdoorswoman and she was a realist. Wandering into the woods at night would result in her either getting lost or injuring herself. After all the effort she had put into trying to save herself, she wasn't going to risk that one. She was just going to have to get up to the road above her…

… which was easier planned than done. There was a lot of brush to try and pull herself up with, but the ground was moist, and her feet kept sliding on the incline because it was hard to find decent toeholds. There was just enough moonlight that she was able to get herself up to the road. Once there, she just lay on the ground. Her chest still hurt, and her head was throbbing. Besides Carl hitting her, she must have been hit pretty hard by that airbag to knock her out.

As she lay there trying to figure out what to do next, she heard a quiet, "Bitch", just before he kicked her in the head and she was out cold, once again.


	12. The Shadows Grow Long   12/18

Monday, 11:42pm, certainly nowhere, VA

When Steph came to, he was flipping through her wallet; he must have gone through her coat. She lay motionless as she watched him, hoping he would think she was still out cold. And how in the hell had he had walked away from that crash?

She focused on the feel of her cell in the front pocket of her pants, underneath her as she lay on the ground. The only thing she could guess was that he must have stopped searching once he found her wallet...

oh, damn. Her wallet. Her pictures of her family… if he saw them it would change everything.

He was reading out loud from her driver's license: Stephanie Abbott, Silver Spring, MD. Eyes: blue; Hair: black.

When he found her cash he was apparently finished with the wallet; he threw it at her head and walked away. He must have figured she wasn't worth it, and she was okay with that. At this point all she wanted was distance between them.

And so did he.

Steph didn't know it, but Carl had been here before, to the Bull Run National Park Shooting Center. He would come here for supplies every now and again. And practice. Carl thought himself a damn fine shot... yeah, he really should have been holding one of the guns.

He was more than 100 yards away when he turned back to Steph, took out his beloved HDM .22 with a fully integrated sound suppressor, and used her for target practice.


	13. The Shadows Grow Long   13/18

Tuesday, 9:37am, Steph's hospital room, GW Hospital, Wash, D.C.

Sharon sat by Steph's bedside in the recovery room, and had to guess where it would be safe to touch her. Looking at her poor baby, the tubes and the beeping, the bruises and the bandages, all Sharon wanted to do was take her in her arms and rock her like she had when Stephie was a baby. She settled on running her fingers through her smooth, ebony hair as it draped across the pillow. It was the only place Sharon knew for sure that she wasn't causing Stephie any pain.

Sharon thought it ironic that they were at GW, as this was the hospital where Baby Girl Abbott had been born. The first moment she had laid eyes on her girl, Sharon had been overcome with the most amazing wave of love and joy. She remembered looking up at her husband, Grant, who appeared to be equally undone by the intensity of the emotion. Grant - the love of her life - simply said, "She has your eyes."

As she sat in the room, she heard the door quietly open. The nurses and doctors had been walking in and out constantly, so Sharon didn't pay any attention until hands she recognized as well as her own came to rest on her shoulders, and a soft kiss was placed on her cheek.

She jumped up and spun around, almost knocking the chair over, "Grant!", and threw herself into his arms. After 6 hours of cars and planes, Grant was ready to catch her, to be here for both Sharon and Steph.

Sharon pulled back, "How did you get here so soon? I wasn't expecting you here for a couple more hours."

"Remember Bernie? From the Air Force? He works at the Air Force Academy these days. I contacted him and when he heard that Steph was involved in the shooting last night he made some calls and found someone who could get me here on a private plane. I had to make my way from Denver to the local airport at Colorado Springs and we flew in from there." His eyes wandered over Sharon's shoulder, and she knew just when he saw Stephie.

"Oh, Sharon. Look at what they did to our baby." Sharon had experienced that initial shock, too, and she was glad to be here for Grant.

"What do the doctors say?" Grant asked as he took a tentative step towards the bed, holding Sharon’s hand. 

"They’re very optimistic, Grant. She was shot in the leg, and has a concussion, too. They say the damage to her leg was complicated, but it should heal well with some physical therapy."

"What about the concussion? How did she get that?" Grant asked.

Sharon had him sit down as she told him the whole story. The assassination attempt, the car-jacking, Steph creating a car accident, getting shot, and being found. 

When she was done, Grant was pale, but he asked, "White Supremacists? Because...?"

"No, Grant, he just randomly picked her out of the crowd," Sharon said, as Grant’s head dropped and he started crying with relief.


	14. The Shadows Grow Long   14/18

Tuesday, 12:50am, Bull Run National Park

Carl was more than a little bleary from the car crash earlier, so his shot was bad. Although Russ and Brian had known that his aim was mediocre at best, Carl always overestimated his shooting skills. Tonight, Carl just _knew_ he had shot and killed her with that one bullet, so he just turned with a wobble and walked away, leaving her for dead.

It would be a long walk, but Carl knew of a barbecue joint somewhere near here, just off the freeway. A plate of ribs and eggs wouldn't go down wrong, he thought. Too bad it was after hours: he could really go for a brew. He'd make a call from there and a buddy of his could pick him up in a couple hours.

~~~  
Stephanie lay as still as she could. _God, please don't let him turn around again_ , she thought. She could see him in the dark as he lit up a cigarette, but then he turned and walked off into the night.

She lay still waiting to make sure he wasn't coming back. As she waited she slipped in and out of consciousness, so she didn't know how much time had passed. When she woke up her leg hurt. Bad. She didn't know anything about gunshot wounds, except that she had one. She tried to remember if Carl Bernstein had ever been shot, but she was pretty sure that now she was "one up" on her favorite reporter.

When she felt certain Carl was gone and she was safe enough to move, she slipped her hand into her front pocket to retrieve her cell phone. With her hands shaking, she turned on the phone, and was relieved when she had both a signal and a solid battery.

"9-1-1. How can I help you?" the voice on the other end of the phone answered.

"I've been shot. By one of the men who shot the President. Please help me," her voice breaking. 

"We can help. You've been shot by one of the men who shot the President? What's your name and where are you?"

"My name is Stephanie Abbott. And I don't know where I'm at. He carjacked my car at Rosslyn and made me drive. He shot me just now then walked away so he isn't very far. And he hates me…” Steph groaned as a wave of pain shot through her leg. 

"Stephanie, we're going to get help to you right away. Stay on the line, and don't hang up. Do you think you can hold on for a few minutes while I arrange to get you help? How badly are you injured, Stephanie?"

"I've been shot in the leg. I was in a car accident earlier and I hit my head. Please, help. Call my mom and dad, too. They'll worry."

"Steph, we'll get hold of your parents as soon as we can. Honey, now let's get you help. Do you remember where you drove?"

The 911 operator, Cathy, introduced herself and asked Stephanie a few more questions to try and narrow down where she was. The whole city was a mess, every facet of every police force – local, state, and federal – was engaged in a manhunt looking for the third accomplice… and it looked like this woman had found him.

As she talked to Stephanie, she waved her supervisor over. Cathy asked Steph to hold on for a second while she called in help.

"I've got a woman on the line. She says she was carjacked last night by what sounds like the signal man from the shooting. He made her drive west on 66 - she doesn't remember the exit - then he shot her. She says he’s still somewhere right in the area, though."

While Cathy continued to talk to Stephanie, her supervisor went to call the Secret Service, knowing that this would be under their jurisdiction. While the supervisor was explaining the situation to the Agent she had been transferred to, Cathy came over wearing her wireless headset saying that she had more info from Stephanie about where she was, and the supervisor handed the phone directly to Cathy to save time. Cathy held the receiver with the Secret Service Agent against one ear and had her headset with Stephanie in the other ear.

She talked to the agent, "She says that she's in a park. It's very wooded. That when she took the exit she crossed back over the freeway, so that sounds like she'd be south of 66. She's really groggy, going in and out, but she said she thinks it took her about an hour to get there from Rosslyn but she knows that she's outside the beltway. I was looking at a map... maybe in Prince William County? She's really worried that this guy is going to come back, as he just walked away. So he must be nearby. Wait, wait. She's with me again..." as Cathy focused on the headset.

And everyone held their breath as Cathy listened to Stephanie, then, "Good job, Stephanie. We'll get help to you right away. Stephanie? Stephanie?!"

Cathy spoke into the handset again to the agent, "Bull Run! That's where she's at. She just remembered the sign from when she drove through the gates. And she's out again. You really have to find her, fast. I think she's lost a lot of blood from the GSW and I suspect she has a concussion, too, at least."

And within minutes help was on its way to Stephanie.


	15. The Shadows Grow Long   15/18

Tuesday, 2:45am, Bull Run National Park

They came in quiet, but they came in force.

There were local and state police, FBI, Secret Service agents, and an ambulance. Fortunately, they didn’t have to search long. Right there in the middle of the road lay a body.

As much as the Secret Service agents wanted to talk to her, they let the paramedics in first. The medics knew the significance of this victim, though, so as soon as they felt she wasn't in immediate danger they waved an agent over.

The paramedic warned the agent, "I know you need to talk to her and why, but take it easy on her. She was out cold when we arrived. Looks like she's had one hell of a night.” As the paramedic tended to her gunshot wound, he also gestured over to her car, mangled against a tree off the side of the road. “We know you want her at GW for security reasons, so a Life Flight will be here any minute. It shouldn’t take more than 20 minutes to get her there."

The agent saw the damage to both Stephanie and her car and agreed that this young woman had been through a lot. He knew that he would need to go slowly with her, but hopefully she would have some information that might help.

"Hi, Stephanie. My name is Agent Leon Martinez,” he said as he bent over her. “I know you're hurting, but I'd like to ask you a couple of questions. Would that be okay?"

The paramedic had already put Stephanie in a neck brace, so when she tried to nod she was forced instead to say, "Sure."

"Thanks, Stephanie. Now what can you tell us about the man who shot you?"

"Um, well, his name is Carl Leroy. His friends - the other two guys - were Brian and Russ." Steph said, but was interrupted as one paramedic yelled over her head to the other paramedic about her BP.

"Can you tell us what he looks like?"

"He's crazy. He laughs a lot and yells. He tried to kill the black man with the President. He's skinny and bald, but he's about my age. Oh, and he has a tattoo, right here. A swastika." She tried to point with her right hand to her left, but by this time the paramedics had already inserted IV lines to her arms, which made moving difficult. So instead she said, "Over his left thumb."

Martinez was impressed with the information this brave woman had gathered, but he realized she was starting to slip away again. "Thank you. That's great information, Stephanie, and will help us a lot.”

As he started to move away, Stephanie mumbled something and waved her hand to get him back. 

The paramedic called to him, “Hey, it looks like she’s trying to tell you something else.”

Agent Martinez moved back and leaned in closer. “What, Stephanie, _what_ did you say?"

"Barbecue. We got off the freeway here because he said he wanted barbecue," she said on a slur as she passed out again.

Agent Martinez stepped back to let the paramedics in. For a moment, he worried that she had hit her head harder than they had thought. But when he realized what she was trying to tell him, he was stunned. On the run, he grabbed his radio to contact Agent Ron Butterfield and to mobilize the rest of his agents here in the area.


	16. The Shadows Grow Long   16/18

Tuesday, 10:45am, GW Hospital, Wash, D.C.

Abbey sat at her husband’s side as Jed told her about his visit with Josh. Together they talked and worried about Charlie and Zoey. Then Abbey explained Stephanie’s amazing role in last night’s events to Jed... and of course he wanted to get up and go visit her, too. To keep him in bed, Abbey had to promise that she would introduce him to Stephanie and her parents personally, as soon as she heard that Stephanie was awake. 

Donna sat beside Josh’s bed, listening to the machines beep and whirr, until her breath and heart began to sync with the rhythm of Josh’s life. He had woken up earlier and said a few words to the President, but he was sleeping again. She wanted to be here when he woke up again. Donna was determined; there was no way that she would let hate take him away from her. In her soul Donna knew that the only way to counter this sort of hate was with love, and Donna knew that she loved Josh enough to pull him through anything. 

Charlie didn’t know what to say; didn’t know what to think. All he wanted to do was hold Zoey, but he felt it was the last thing he should be doing now. 

Zoey knew Charlie was hurting, but she didn’t know how to help him; she just knew she loved him. So she stayed with him, and offered what support she could. 

Sharon and Grant sat beside their baby; holding her hands, touching her hair. Sharon was humming a tune Grant remembered her singing to Stephie when she was a baby.

When Stephie finally began to stir, both Sharon and Grant moved closer. 

“Baby? Stephanie? Wake up for us. We’re here waiting for you,” Grant said. 

“Honey, it’s mama. Please wake up. Show us you’re okay.” 

As Stephanie’s eyes fluttered opened she saw her parents, who loved her so much. She saw her own eyes reflected in her mother’s blue eyes, with tears running down her mother’s pink cheeks. She looked at her father and saw his brown eyes filled with worry and his warm cocoa colored skin. Both of them were smiling down at her; when they saw that she was awake they kissed each other, then they kissed her… very carefully. 

Charlie and Zoey walked the hospital hallways, with Zoey holding onto Charlie’s arm. Wandering past Stephie’s room they were going to stop in to ask her mom how she was doing, but the view through the window to her room told them everything they needed to know. Apparently Mr. Abbott had arrived in from Denver. Stephanie’s parents were laughing and kissing each other while they leaned over Stephanie, touching her hands and hair, while Stephanie gave them the biggest smile her battered face would allow. 

Charlie looked at Mr. and Mrs. Abbott, comparing Mr. Abbott’s black skin and Mrs. Abbott’s white skin with the image he saw of himself and Zoey reflected in the window. Then he looked at Stephanie, the daughter created from the love these two people shared. Inspired, he leaned down and kissed Zoey, softly. “You know I love you, don’t you? That I would do anything for you? Do anything to keep you from getting hurt?” he asked. 

“As a matter of fact, I do. And I love you, too, Charlie Young. I would do anything to keep you from getting hurt, too. But I won’t give you up, Charlie, no matter what anyone – including you - says or does,” she smiled and she kissed him back.


	17. The Shadows Grow Long   17/18

A week later, GW Hospital, Wash, D.C. 

Stephanie rolled into Josh’s room with her parents at her side, to find more than just Josh, Donna and Danny. Charlie and Zoey were there, too, Zoey holding onto Charlie’s arm, while he stood there with his hands in his pockets. 

“Stephanie, Mr. and Mrs. Abbott, thanks for meeting with us,” Donna came over to give Steph a big hug. 

“Hey, Donna, you get this guy up and walking yet?” Steph asked. 

Josh was still a pale shade of gray, but when he smiled at them all Sharon got a good sense of how much impact “the dimples” could have. She smiled back at Josh, then winked at Donna standing next to the bed again.

“Hey, ‘this guy’ is sitting right here.” Josh chimed in, “And yes, I’ll be moving around. Not right now… but soon, soon,” he trailed off. 

Donna smiled big at that, “Your physical therapist and I will hold you to that later, Josh,” as she put her hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, Charlie. Hey, Zoey,” Steph greeted them. She had come to be friends with Zoey and hoped that maybe they could spend some time together at school.

Charlie gave Steph a peck on the cheek. Zoey nodded and greeted Mrs. Abbott, while Charlie shook Mr. Abbott’s hand and smiled at Mrs. Abbott. “Good to see you both again,” he said. Mrs. Abbott thought that Charlie was adorable; he looked a little like Grant had when he was Charlie’s age. 

“Danny, you’re the mastermind behind this meeting, what’s up?” Steph asked. 

“Afternoon Sharon, Grant.” Danny greeted her parents, then turned to look at Stephanie, “Hey, Steph, how you feeling today? Did the doctors decide when they were going to spring you from this joint?” 

She couldn’t wait to share her news. “I get to go home the day after tomorrow, if the incision continues to heal like it has been.” Her face was still a little beat up for all the action it saw, but Stephanie’s smile beamed through the bruises. “And I’ll probably be able to get back into classes next quarter. A few of my teachers said they would help me finish this quarter with special assignments that I can do from home.” 

“If you need help, I can always get assignments or anything from them for you,” Zoey offered. 

Steph couldn’t believe how down to earth Zoey was, despite being so famous. She smiled, “Thanks, Zoey. I really would appreciate it.”

With that, Danny stepped up holding a newspaper in his hand. “Think this might get you a little extra credit from your journalism teacher?” as he handed the paper over to Steph. 

The media had been thrashing about, trying to find out more about Stephanie but the Secret Service had kept her under wraps here at the hospital for security’s sake. They wanted to make sure that there weren’t any other accomplices in the West Virginia White Pride coming after her. When they had finally said that it was safe enough, Steph’s parents had allowed Danny to interview her for the Washington Post. They had liked Danny as soon as they had met him, so while Steph was still in the hospital they had allowed her and Danny to meet and talk. They knew her story had to be told: she had played such a crucial role in the apprehension of the signal man involved in the shooting of the President. Even more dramatic was that she was the daughter of a white woman and a black man, the very target this white supremacist had tried to crush. 

Steph had learned so much from Danny in those sessions. She listened to the types of questions he asked, and how he asked them. She noted how he had asked some questions in a certain order. It had been hard for her… he had done such a good job asking her to describe what she had gone through that she had felt some of the same emotions she had that night… only this time she was safe, so it was okay. The talent to create that feeling would be a sign of a really good interviewer, she thought. Actually, over the last two weeks she had been so impressed with Danny that he had supplanted Mr. Bernstein as her role model. Besides, Danny was cuter. 

When Steph went to read the article, though, she had to look twice. The headline read: “Winning Against the Shadows” and the byline read “Daniel Concannon and Stephanie Abbott”. 

“Danny!” Steph screeched in surprise, “What did you do?” as she waved the paper in her parents’ face. But they had no chance to read it as it went by. Charlie, Zoey, Josh, and Donna must have already seen the article, because they were smiling and laughing at Steph’s antics. 

“I interviewed you, but you interviewed him,” Danny honestly replied, “and the stories needed to be told together. I just organized your interview a bit. I hope you don’t mind.” 

Steph pulled the article close to read it a little better. Of course the article was good: Danny had written it. It was _really_ good, though. It was written in a very unique style: as 2 separate interviews, not blended together, but rather gently woven into one. The article was strong and cohesive, yet the reader could tell where her interview of Carl left off and Danny’s interview of her picked up. No wonder he had won a Pulitzer. 

 

Stephanie looked around the room: Her mom and dad, Charlie and Zoey, even Josh and Donna. Each of them loving against the odds, facing hate bravely. In that moment she knew that as her career rolled forward - with every byline printed and every story told - that one crucial element would be her foundation: the power of love, respect, and justice.


	18. The Shadows Grow Long   18/18

In the future, this foundation – the power of love, respect, and justice - would serve her well. 

During her college internship at the Baltimore Sun her hard-working and professional nature served her in good stead, and she was offered a position at the paper upon graduating. 

She may have begun as a “grunt” reporter at the Sun but she gained the editor’s attention quickly. Her information and her sources were always accurate, and her writing style found the difficult balance between un-biased and moving. She began to be described as an “award-winning journalist”. 

This reputation garnered a much coveted position at the Washington Post when she was thirty-two. When she was offered the position, all she could think was, _I’m being given the opportunity to write for the same organization for which both Carl Bernstein and Daniel Concannon have written._

In 2013, Steph was doing some undercover investigative reporting about the followers of a radical fundamentalist Minister in Delaware who were “praying for the souls of Muslims, that they might find Salvation”. While looking into a splinter group of the congregation who were organizing a boycott of businesses owned by people from the Middle East, she met an even smaller group – a white man and a woman, and a black man – who took her into their confidence, claiming to have started a recent fire at a local mosque. They wanted her to join their group, supporting their plans to roll out a modern-day crusade, targeting local Muslim leaders and mosques. They already had other members; they called themselves the KNA – the Knights of New Antioch. 

The article that Stephanie wrote exposing these hate-filled people saved lives. It brought about a new understanding of the hate American Muslims were experiencing across the U.S. It opened lines of communication across religious boundaries that would develop into strong, healthy relationships. So by the time she was thirty-eight Steph had won her Pulitzer for Public Service. 

A year later, May 2015, she received a letter in the mail. It was notification from the Federal Bureau of Prisons saying that Carl Leroy was up for parole. The Parole hearing would be held at the Federal Correctional Complex in Petersburg, Virginia. In 1999 Carl had been tried and found guilty of conspiracy to murder, kidnapping, and assault with a deadly weapon. His defense team reminded the federal court that Mr. Leroy had never killed anyone; in fact he had never intended to harm the President or any White House Official. They claimed that he was remorseful that he had been involved in any activity with this result. Of course, during his defense his lawyers avoided any mention of the kidnapping, or that Carl had shot her and left her for dead.

Steph had expected this parole letter for the past few years, ever since President Bartlet’s passing, but reading the letter had been a blow. Every day she remembered the events of that night. Seventeen years later her thigh still told her when bad weather should be expected.

After reading over the letter at home that night, she placed a call to the office of a friend who had probably received the same letter. 

Two days later Steph stepped into the office of one of the Congressmen from Virginia. She was surprised to see who else was in the room.

“Congressman, it’s good to see you. Thank you for making time to meet,” turning, she added, “and Zoey, what a surprise!” Steph said. 

Zoey Young just laughed, hugged her, and teased with her husband, “Charlie, we surprised her! I didn’t think Steph could be surprised anymore, at all,” then, “Steph, you look great!”

The three of them sat down in Charlie’s office, and caught up for a while before they got down to the real reason Steph had called to meet. “Charlie, Zoey, did you receive a letter from the Petersburg parole board?” Steph asked hesitantly.

Charlie took Zoey’s hand, as mention of Carl Leroy never failed to upset her. “Yes, we received a letter. Are you planning on going to the hearing?” 

“Yes, I suppose I will. I don’t know what I will be able to add to the hearing that hasn’t already been said, or even included in Danny’s article, but I’m planning on going anyway,” answered Steph. 

“And we’ll be there with you. I feel we have to tell them what we learned about Carl from that night,” Charlie said. 

Zoey agreed, “Yes, we’ll be there,” she looked at Charlie and continued, “I’m just concerned that this attention will stir up a hornets nest. And now is not a good time.” 

Charlie explained, “Steph, I’ve been talking with Sam and Josh. I’m going to continue representing Virginia for another term, but they tell me it’s time and they’re ready to go…” he rubbed Zoey’s hand as he shared, “…I’m going to run for President Bartlet’s old job in 2018.”

The news was wonderful. “Charlie, oh, that’s great! Oh, I can’t wait to vote for you,” Steph encouraged. 

Then she looked at Zoey’s worried face, and knew what the Congressman’s wife was anxious about. “Zoey, you love Charlie. You know he won’t let fear stop him, right? And the Secret Service will take good care of you, Charlie, and the kids,” she reminded. “Charlie will be an incredible President. He could have so much influence in bringing this nation together; both of you could. You have a wisdom that comes from first-hand experience.”

Zoey sighed, and rubbed her husband’s hand, agreeing, “Yes. I know that he will be an exceptional President; one my dad would’ve been so excited to see. And I’ll support him through it all. I just worry,” she trailed off looking at Charlie, and he leaned over to kiss her. 

Changing the direction of the conversation, Charlie went on, “Hey, Steph, I know that Josh and Sam are already making plans, but I need to say ask: if I do this, I want you to be there, too. Would you be willing to join me, in a Communications role?” 

Steph was surprised, flattered, and not a little bit intimidated by the offer. She thought about her parents and a love that was so powerful they were willing to fight against the odds. She reflected on the outcome from that horrible night in Rosslyn. Then she reminded herself of the goals she had laid out for herself in her career as a reporter and how her life had unfolded… 

…and she answered him the only way she could: “Yes, sir. I’ll serve at the pleasure of the President.” Steph smiled at her future President and First Lady - two of her best friends - knowing that this was where her future lay; eager to embark on this next great adventure.


End file.
